


Temporary Reprieve

by Waltzing



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Angst, Gen, Horror, Supernatural Elements, implied animal cruelty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1500203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waltzing/pseuds/Waltzing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What exactly happened to Rocky, Alex’s dog?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temporary Reprieve

The house is mostly the same as Alex remembers, although the lack of furniture makes it seem a bigger. All those years with no one living here. He isn't all that surprised that no one wanted to rent it after he left. There is something about the place, as if it has retained some memory of his time there.

He wanders through the empty rooms, footsteps echoing, following the path that Tim and Jay had taken themselves months ago. They had searched all the cupboards and drawers, all the closets, but had found nothing except some papers of his that he’d missed during his hurried packing back in 2006.

Nearly eight years ago. How could it have been eight years?

He glances nervously out of the windows toward the backyard, before he heads for the basement. The power is out, so he makes his way in near-darkness. His feet still remember how many steps there are.

He stands in the basement for a few minutes, his eyes gradually adjusting, the dirty window barely allowing in the faint light from the setting sun. He had pointed a gun at Jay in a place as dark as this.

He waits a little longer, but nothing happens. Probably for the best. Alex isn't ready to meet Him just yet.

*

He goes back into the lounge and sits down on the carpeted floor. The room seems to echo with memories of happier times. The guys coming round to play on the PS2. Movie-and-pizza nights. Jay helping him out with the script. Parties and practical jokes and laughter and drunken talks late at night.

They had all been so happy. And, later, Amy visiting him that one time, evenings in spent cuddled on the couch. He had kept her existence from the others, his little secret.

Something about that thought conjures up a fleeting memory, one that he can’t quite catch before it dissolves. He shakes his head. None of it matters any more. The only thing left is finishing the job he started back then. This trip is just a temporary reprieve. Soon enough he’ll have to go back, find Tim and end it all and then he’ll be done. He can breathe easy.

He’ll be totally alone once that happens. He’ll be safe.

He gets up and goes into the kitchen, past the spot where he used to put out Rocky’s bowl. More memories surface: the day he brought Rocky home from the pet shop. He had named him after the movies he and Brian used to watch together when drunk and then ironically quote from for days afterwards. He remembers Rocky as a puppy chasing rabbits that were bigger than he was, how he would wag his tail when Alex got out his leash. Sleeping at the end of his bed. Barking at the mailman. Playing catch with a frisbee in the park. Knocking over his camera tripod that one time and barking incessantly at the camera until Alex had to hide it.

Throughout it all, Rocky was his only true friend, the only one he could rely on. It was his death (murder, Alex thinks) that convinced Alex to move away to Rosswood when he did. Alex had been planning a transfer there anyway, but the day he had stepped out of his house to find Rocky’s bloodied body laid out on his doorstep had decided it for him. He didn't know for sure which one of them had done it, but he could guess. Alex hadn't been as meticulous in his disposal of certain people as he should have been. He had realised that at least one of them must have survived. And that person must be looking for revenge.

He had left for Rosswood and Amy the next day.

*

The sun has mostly set now. He should probably have left long before it got dark, but he has one more place to visit before he leaves. Rocky’s grave.

He sits down by it in the corner of the yard. He had buried him himself, barely able to see what he was doing through the tears. He hadn't marked the grave with a cross or a stone or anything, worried whoever was after him would find it and dig Rocky up.

He kneels on the lawn next to the grave. If only he could have Rocky back. He wouldn’t be so alone. “You were a good dog,” he says, quietly. “I wish you were still alive.”

He drags the back of his hand across his eyes and clears his throat. And then begins to cough. Then the headache starts. He knows what is about to happen. He turns around, still spluttering and He is there.

Alex can barely look without shielding his eyes, but he forces himself to do it. His coughing stops as the familiar terror rears up in him before it is replaced with something more steely. He watches in fascination as one arm stretches out, seemingly into infinity, past Alex. An image of Rocky as a puppy appears in Alex’s mind, and is abruptly gone in the same moment as He disappears.

He didn't ask anything from Alex.

Alex sits there, blinking. Until he notices a sound coming from behind him. He turns back to Rocky’s grave. It’s a strange, scrabbling kind of sound, distant, as if emanating from underground. He leans forward. Is it.. is it coming from the grave? As he listens, it gets louder, and he notices in the gloom that the dry earth on the grave is moving slightly. He gets up quickly and backs away a little bit, watching in horror as more dirt crumbles away, the sparse grass on top of the grave quivering. Suddenly, the soil seems to cave in on itself and Alex watches in horror as something off-white and skeletal emerges from the dirt, digging it’s way upwards. Fleshless paws appear: the paws of a dog long-dead and decomposed. Alex watches, sickened as a bare skull follows, and suddenly the skeleton of Rocky emerges from the grave, digging his way out. Alex stumbles back, unable to take his eyes off the scene. He trips and falls to his knees. Rocky shakes the dirt from his bones as if it was water. He turns to Alex and his jaws move, once, twice - attempting to bark, but there is nothing but silence apart from the clacking of his bones as he starts to caper toward Alex, happily wagging the bony stump of his tail.

Alex scrambles to his feet and runs to his car.

He drops his keys twice but finally manages to get in and start the engine. Rocky had chased after him, thinking it was a game, probably. The dog reaches the car and jumps up at the driver’s side door, his jaw moving rapidly as if he was barking excitedly. But no sound emerges. Alex shudders as he backs down the driveway, Rocky following. Alex turns and speeds off down the road. He looks at the rearview mirror, through tears he hadn't realised he was crying, to see the skeleton of Rocky sitting at the end of the drive watching him go. The familiar pose he would strike whenever Alex would leave for college, hunched, tail drooping. Dejected.

As he turns the corner, Alex looks back once more just in time to see the bones of his friend collapse into dust.


End file.
